From the Ballroom Floor
by JannP
Summary: What did the kids do after Burt & Carole's wedding?  Each part will be a different couple's after party and is woven around the song "Stolen" by Dashboard Confessional, so YouTube it if you aren't familiar.  Rated M so be warned! :
1. Chapter 1: Finn and Rachel

Rachel threaded her fingers into the knot on his tie and tugged down, driven absolutely mad as his hand opened and closed, dragging his long fingers along the sensitive skin on her upper thigh, underneath the skirt that was splayed across her lap. She sighed into their next kiss, pressing heavily into his chest as he groaned.

"I told you this dress is amazing, right?" He said, pulling away just long enough to barely and breathlessly get the words out before he dove right in again.

"You did," she said, kissing through her huge smile; he could say it again because she would never tire of the adoration. Adoration of the masses was one thing and it was great, but adoration from him was the best.

She pulled away and pulled his now untied tie with her and he took advantage of the opportunity to take a pull from the bottle of champagne he had kept in his hand and pressed to her back as they kissed. Puck had generously pilfered one for each couple, pausing to assure Rachel that it was both vegan and kosher, before disappearing into some dark hole with Santana. Finn had no reason to believe any of what Puck said was actually true, but he couldn't disprove it either. After the heady, loving climate at the wedding, he really didn't care, either. Puck's words were, for some reason, enough for Rachel to throw caution to the wind and imbibe with him and that was all he needed. Plus it was free and it had been literally dropped into his hands without him doing anything bad and earning a lecture from his beautiful girlfriend.

Rachel needed to learn how to relax a little, and he was determined to show her how to have a good time. He felt like the best person to show her. After all, Puck would say anything or do anything to persuade another person and Finn wasn't like that. She could trust Finn and she knew it.

Finn just hoped he could rein himself in a little bit before he did something she would regret tomorrow (making it, really, _both of them_ that might regret it because being easy-going and not blaming wasn't really her specialty.) She _was_ amazing in that dress. She was hot in that dress. And now that she was at least halfway out of the dress (he had successfully unzipped the back and rounded second base, thank Grilled Cheesus), she was just hot and bothered.

He tipped the bottle toward her to offer her some and she took it, her swig now a little longer than it had been earlier. She handed the bottle back to him.

"Rach…are you _sure_?" He asked softly, his eyes wide and watching carefully. "I mean…I…"

She was sitting sideways in his lap, his fingers still tickling her bare thigh under the layer of tulle that fluffed the dress out, but she turned and took his face in her hands. "I'm sure."

"Okay," he agreed, moving to kiss her again. Her legs and posture relaxed a little more and he inched his hand up further on her thigh as she unbuttoned his shirt and reached inside. Being skin-to-skin in any capacity was a fairly new development in their relationship and it seemed like they both craved it more and more. He wondered in a brief, fleeting thought if that meant they were getting closer to having sex and he had to repress his sigh. There was no way he could take that step with her unless he'd been totally honest about it being his first time… but only in the sense that it was his first time that _meant something_.

Could he be the kind of guy who violated her trust with dishonesty? There was no way because at the very least, Santana wouldn't let him. This time there was no repressing the sigh.

She pulled away. "Are you okay?" She asked softly, never moving very far away. He could still feel her lips moving against his.

Rachel could feel her control slipping as his hand moved upward from her thigh. She wanted to take another step. She felt like she was ready for something more, had felt it for weeks now, but one thing she was never very good at was relinquishing control. She wasn't good at trusting fully and letting someone else take charge. It helped at times that Finn wasn't very good at actually taking charge, but there was something about him when they were like this.

She _wanted_ to lose control. She wanted him to take charge. When he would lean back with a sly smile for just a moment before he forced her to roll over on her bed as they were making out, she secretly loved it. She loved the way his weight rested against her and the way he was so careful to keep his hands busy in her hair or on her waist unless she directed him elsewhere.

He was just so respectful. So sweet. She loved him so much and was gaining more security in the ebb and flow of that feeling every day. She was finally understanding what it was like to be a partner rather than being the boss. It was actually nice to let someone else take charge once in a while and she trusted him to do it. He was the only one she trusted that way.

"I wanted to tell you something," she finally said, her fingers dancing over the short hair at the back of his neck. There was something in the air tonight, something heady and fast and wonderful. Something that made her feel brave and reckless and like giving up control.

"Okay," he said openly. "Anything."

She smiled briefly. "I'm getting tired of saying no."

Where before his voice was heavy, weighted with desire and lust and everything she knew she had put there by rubbing up against him during their long makeout session—now it was clear and maybe even a little uncertain. "Wh-what?"

_Way to rein it in, Finn_. As the voice in his head mocked him, he cleared his throat.

"Not tonight, of course," she said simply. "I would feel a little more relaxed if it was planned, but…you know, after we win Sectionals. Maybe during Winter Break?"

"Like a Christmas present?" He asked doubtfully and she actually laughed. It was a gentle laugh, though, so two critical things were at play: she wasn't making fun of him and she knew he wasn't entirely serious.

"There's something romantic about the first real snow," she said in a low voice. Her eyes were freely roving his face, her body was still pressed against him and her bare skin was so warm. There was no way he could say no to any of that. There was no way he could say _anything_. So he nodded his agreement.

With that, they dove into each other all over again, renewed in their bravery as they began exploring each other with refreshed fingertips. He absently set the champagne bottle down on the small table next to the comfortable couch Kurt had selected (at last meeting Finn's requirement for simplicity by going with microfiber and a regular couch—a dude's couch). Finn hardly noticed when the bottle bumped against an art-deco vase with an aggressively colored swirl that was loaded with flowers. They made the room smell nice and he could compromise—especially after Burt had flat-out told him that he'd _better_ compromise.

As soon as his hand was free of the bottle, he slipped it around her back and unhooked the strapless bra she was wearing under the amazing dress. He'd felt stupid, and more than a little caught up in the mystery of a girl all dressed up (because when they were normally hot and smelled good, he wondered what magic they did to make themselves even more hot and even better smelling), as he asked her in an embarrassed whisper if she was even wearing a bra. He could feel her breasts crushed against him as they danced; it had been turning him on the whole time, so he kept his jacket on the entire time and was glad they had finished all the dancing as the official wedding band.

He really, really didn't want to explain to his mother that his girlfriend was giving him such a raging hard-on that even sudden remembrance of nearly taking out a civil servant wasn't helping him alleviate it like normal. Because he felt like it was that obvious to everyone. Rachel had given him one or two raised-eyebrow glances as they pressed especially close for a slow dance, but she hadn't said a word. He was surprised at her discretion, but he was glad she was learning some.

Now, however, there was no discretion and none of the normal restraint, either. It was almost like she was pushing a boundary now that she'd somehow committed to it going 'all the way'. He wasn't going to complain.

Rachel shifted in his lap as they kissed, her thigh brushing right up against his erection as she relaxed her legs to give him easier access.

_What_? Really?

Finn wished it wasn't a squeaky, thirteen year old boy asking if he was ready in moments like this. It would feel more reassuring if that voice would grow up and would match the grown up actions he was doing.

He rubbed his finger right against her lacy underwear and his breathing sped up as he felt how wet it was. There was no way in hell the mailman was going to help him now, either.

She moaned, even leaned against him a little bit. Her tongue was almost all the way down to his throat now and she had dropped one tiny hand down to rub against the zipper of his pants. There was really going to be no turning back if she was going to do that. He didn't want there to be any turning back.

One thought about the fact that he hadn't ever actually done this part with a girl before, and yet had managed to avoid telling her something much more significant he _had _done and he calmed down just a little bit. He hooked his finger around the edge of her panties, his hooked finger making skin-to-skin contact with the warmest skin he'd ever touched in his life. It was like she was on fire. She groaned and shifted forward a little bit, tugging down on his zipper even as she pressed into his finger.

She wanted this. She had never let him get this far before, but today was so special. They danced and it was so hot, so tender and so overwhelming that she _wanted_ today to be even more special. Had she not already issued her disclaimer about wanting their first time to be planned, researched, and not just gone in a moment of passion—it was entirely possible that _now_ could've been their first time. She wanted it to be, and the thought was sudden and she moaned a little bit, pressing her face to his ear as she felt him stroke her gently, his touch hesitating just a little bit without verbal permission.

The thought was not as sudden as the bright light flicking on, followed by the sound of footsteps and a muted gasp. In her shock and disorientation, she moved to pull away but felt Finn's hand move from where it had been back onto her thigh before he clamped his hand down to hold her in place and looked up at her with a subtle shake of the head.

If she moved, she would basically flash whoever had come in, but it would be _him_ who was flashing them. The only way it could've been more obscene was if he wasn't wearing pants at all.

"Oh my God!" Kurt said. Rachel turned her head, barely able to see him at the bottom of the stairs. Mercedes' mouth was flapping and she was uncharacteristically silent. Kurt had turned his head and pressed his hand over his eyes. "Finn – hand check!"

It was an inside joke from the choir room, but as Finn and Rachel's relationship had progressed and they had shared more 'stolen' moments during rehearsal (with increasingly hands-y results), it was an increasingly necessary question. Same with Quinn and Sam as their relationship had progressed. And same with Puck and…well, whoever he was partnered with (unless it was Lauren).

Finn's face was bright red, flushed with his arousal and embarrassment all at once, as he clearly muttered "You don't want to know, dude." His hand around Rachel's back had slipped down to rest in the waistband of her underwear with the tips of his fingers tickling at the top of her butt; he wasn't moving that one because her skin was so soft. The other hand was staying where it was out of necessity. And maybe a little bit out of refusal, too.

Mercedes finally jumped into action, no longer uncertain and suddenly certain that all she wanted was to get the hell out of here.

"We were just coming back to grab Kurt's copy of Rent since mine is broken," Mercedes said easily. "And since the rest of you were hooking up, I figured I could at least enjoy some Taye Diggs."

Rachel shrugged and looked at Finn. She was bouncing back and forth by the second as to whether she was embarrassed by or irritated with the interruption. She simply nuzzled Finn's nose and gave him an uncertain smile.

Mercedes could maybe read the impatience in Rachel's posture and poked Kurt hard as she hissed "Hurry up, would you?"

It finally spurred him into action as he hurried three more steps to his DVD collection and began looking over the titles.

"'Rent' or 'A Chorus Line'?" He finally said. "I'm up for either."

"Take both, man." Finn suggested, and no one missed the edge in his voice.

"Both it is," Kurt said before he gave a nervous giggle. He grabbed both movies and waved at the pair. "Ta!"

"Bye," Rachel said, barely choking the words out as Finn started tickling the inside of her thigh again. "Turn…turn off the light!" She called to Kurt and Mercedes as they started to ascend the stairs, marked with quick footsteps.

The lights went out and Mercedes called "We won't be back!"

"Thank God," Rachel muttered as she looked at Finn. She was unable to see his face as the sudden switch back to darkness had momentarily rendered her eyes useless. But his breath was on her arm so she knew he had buried his face in her chest. "Now where were we?" She asked, trying to use her most business-like tone.

His face pulled away from her, his eyes nothing but sparking flint in the darkness. "I was about to ask you to dance with me."

Her smile was slow. "Oh, is _that_ what you were doing? Because I could've sworn you had something else in mind."

He didn't want to admit anything—not yet. But he knew they needed to have an important talk before things could go any further. He wouldn't feel right about it. That's just all there was to it.

"Dancing with you was my favorite part of today," he said simply, reaching behind her to tug the zipper on her dress back up. "I wasn't quite ready to be done yet."

"Are you sure?" She asked doubtfully. She was trying not to feel rejected, but it was a sudden change in events; she hadn't foreseen it and it wasn't sitting well with her. It felt like there was more to his reticence than a desire to dance. "I mean, we dance all the time. We don't have all night, unsupervised at your parents' house under the guise of a chaperoned glee club sleepover, all the time. I thought you might want to take advantage of that."

He gave her a lingering kiss. "I am taking advantage of it. I just want to dance with my girl."

"Okay, then let's dance the night away," she agreed. She moved off his lap and held her hand out to him. "I know the perfect song to start with."

His smile was wide. "Oh, you do?"

"Of course I do," she scoffed. She moved to where his iPod was already mounted into a set of speakers. He'd been unpacking in the basement for most of last night. She knew that because she'd been there with him, mostly watching and occasionally changing his soundtrack. She picked it up and turned on the touch screen with a tap of her finger before she scrolled through his rather impressive list of songs.

During the summer when they had first gotten together, she had programmed a long playlist of her favorites on there so she could quickly bypass all the crap he listened to while he was lifting weights and running at one sports practice or another. She settled on the song immediately and the familiar guitar beat wafted through the room while she adjusted the volume.

He smiled as he came over to the table so that when she stood and turned, he was right there with his hand out toward her. He knew this song because she had played it the night before they went back to school and they danced to it more than once. It was the perfect mood-setter for the end of summer, he said in agreement after he'd gotten his first good listen.

As the drumbeat picked up insistently, he flicked his arm out so she twirled, and then pulled her back against him so he could drop his head onto her shoulder. He turned his head to press a kiss to her cheek before he sang in her ear in a close, tender baritone. She was the only one who heard him sing quite like this and it sent shivers—good ones—up her spine as he started.

"Our dreams are sure and we all will sleep well…sleep well… sleep well… you have stolen, you have stolen… you have stolen my heart."

As she turned her head to kiss him, he surprised her by flicking his wrist again and sending her spinning. He was no longer singing as he pulled her in, but was mouthing the words and looking at her so sweetly, so tenderly as the song talked about spinning around in her highest heels and then she was close to him again and he held her close as he said she was the best one of the best ones in perfect time.

She gave up everything to him all over again in that moment, kissing him with reckless abandon. He had stolen her heart, too. She was totally his, and in that moment of complete surrender, she had never been more terrified or more steady and certain all at once. She smiled. The song was, as always, singing the truth—their future never looked so bright, even as they kissed summer goodbye and now looked forward to snow. It might've been a golden summer, but it was going to be a glittering, magical winter.


	2. Chapter 2:  Quinn and Sam

_A/N: So as I'm getting the hang of posting here, I'm figuring out how to add fun stuff like author's notes and whatnot. I just wanted to give a brief shoutout but huge and many thanks for the replies, follows, favorites and stuff that have come my way. It's been a pretty warm welcome here and I'm glad you're all enjoying the story. _

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my bad attitude and a flamboyant disregard for spoilers. And maybe a couple of doorknobs and some hooker boots._

**Chapter 2: Quinn and Sam**

Quinn looked at Sam, carefully sneaking glances as he drove back from the reception. He had invited her back to his house, to join his family for dinner. It had come as his answer to her prodding all through the wedding celebration for him to tell her something personal.

She had only really _dated_ one person for any length of time, and that was Finn. She was not going to waste any time comparing her new and tentative relationship with Sam to the previous one that had gone so astray. She and Puck had kind of danced around each other awkwardly throughout her pregnancy, but they were never actually together. They would never be together.

No, Quinn was not very easy on this side of a relationship. She had known most everything about Finn when they started dating because they had known each other since middle school. They lived too far apart to have gone to the same elementary school, but all your real growing up is done in middle school and high school anyway. She knew Finnegan Christopher Hudson inside and out before they ever kissed—which meant she knew how to _work_ him, too. She still felt a little bad about how she had done exactly that. She was determined not to repeat lots of her priors, and that one was right at the top of the list.

But Sam was different. She didn't know all of his expression, didn't know what he was thinking, and couldn't bend him to her will. He had his own agenda and she had yet to figure out exactly what it was. She knew he was trying to get in and good with McKinley High society, but he would've realized attaching to her was a mistake as soon as he heard the sob story that was her sophomore year. Her reputation here was fragile, hanging by a carefully spun thread, and wouldn't allow her to tow him up with her.

Then again, he was now a quarterback on the football team. He had kind of usurped Finn's pre-pregnancy scandal position on the social food chain.

She took another glance at the blonde boy in the driver's seat before she faced forward again and folded her arms just under her chest with a small smile. Would he change his tune when he realized the baby stuff was only half of the reason she didn't want to get physical with him? She smirked. She knew that some boys, especially Finn, were nervous about girls seeing their bodies and were afraid of being judged. She knew how uncomfortable Sam had been during the Rocky Horror rehearsals. She also knew that insecurity was not dissimilar to her own.

For the first time in her life, Quinn was uncertain when it came to her physical image. She had always been the hot girl; maybe she wasn't dirty-hot like Santana, but she could rock a pair of name brand jeans and a coy expression until the boys came home. Or until they _came_ at the very least. Now, though, she wasn't sure. She had continued her healthy eating habits, resumed the bare minimum of calorie intakes, and exercised regularly even beyond Cheerios practice. She had finally managed to button up a pair of pre-pregnancy pants that were even a size smaller than she was aiming for. But she knew there were stretch marks. She knew her breasts weren't quite as perky as they had been. Something in the texture of her hair and skin had changed a little bit and she felt _off_. She was really hesitant to show any of that to someone, especially not the boy sitting next to her that she barely knew.

"So are you as nervous to meet my family as I am to have you meet them? Maybe wishing we hadn't left Puck's champagne at the function hall?" He finally asked in a low voice.

Her eyes shifted over to him even if her posture didn't change at all. "You're nervous?"

"Yeah," he said, the word a disbelieving chuckle. "Of course I am. You're the first girl I've brought home considering I've lived at boarding school for four years."

This admission caused her to look over with a raised eyebrow. She wasn't sure she wanted to be anyone's first _anything_. "I am? Am I the first girl you've dated at all?"

"Not…exactly," he hedged.

"Then exactly what's wrong?"

He shook his head, flashing a quick smile her direction as he barely diverted his gaze from the road. "Well, I dated a couple of girls from the all-girls school we paired up with for dances. It was all short-lived because their school was the next town over. There were instances of sneaking into dorms and so on, but when we came home there was nothing like that." He shrugged. "My parents have been worried about me starting somewhere co-ed, so I guess I'm nervous they will think I've aimed a little too high."

Quinn frowned. "Did you?"

His smile was warm and immediately. "Obviously you didn't think so."

She shook her head, but smiled slightly to take the sting out of her words. "You are not enough like Puck to pull that off."

"Good. I can't stand that guy."

Her smile was more genuine. "That's just because you've only seen him after. He was a standup guy…as much as he can be."

"I watched him offer to pay you to 'give the girls a lift'," Sam responded doubtfully. She didn't miss the way his eyes flicked down to her chest and back up to her face. His voice was low. "I don't think they need it, personally."

"You're the first guy I met who could look at my boobs during regular conversation and not make me want to hurt you."

"That's good news," he said, finally reaching his house and pulling the borrowed Nissan Altima into the driveway.

"Okay, give me the rundown again," Quinn said, turning in her seat. There were brief moments where she could let down that cool, perfect exterior. They were becoming more frequent around Sam and this was one of them. At her heart, she was a girl who wanted to be liked by any number of people—last but not least, her boyfriend's parents and family. But most of all, _him_.

She had been trying to operate with a little restraint when he was around, not wanting to get caught up in someone else again when she had promised herself she would have a selfish, singular focus at least until she finished high school. She felt like it was a second chance and she didn't want to take it lightly. Lately, though, it felt like she was getting a second chance at something else entirely. Even if he was still a stranger and she was proceeding with caution, she would compulsively demand details of his family so they would like her.

Sam sighed in false weariness and turned to her. He reached out to unfold her hands and wrap his fingers around her hands. "My mom is the drill team instructor for Bath High School. She'll be glad you're a dancer, just don't directly mention Sue. My dad is still looking for a job, but he is an accountant with a master's degree. My sister goes to the middle school and is a pain the ass but I hear she likes singing so she won't leave me alone since I joined New Directions. My brother is in fifth grade and plays every sport ever invented." He rubbed his thumbs over the backs of her hands and she found it soothing. "And they don't know about the promise ring, so I wish you would reconsider wearing it while we're here. Just take it all in."

"So I shouldn't talk about Sue, but I can talk about dancing and singing and how hot football players are… what do they know about me?"

He smiled. "Nothing, really—just that I'm excited about this." His gentle tug on her hands provided the clue to his motion and he leaned forward to give her a soft kiss. He smirked at her. "I think they're just glad I'm dating a _girl_."

Her eyes drifted up to his hair. The bleach was starting to fade, just slightly but not quite enough. "Well, maybe they'll think the fumes went to your head."

He shook his head. "They're going to love you."

"Like you do?" She said, wanting to kick herself for being so obvious, even as her voice came out sounding hesitant.

"No," he whispered. He gave her another kiss. When she wasn't trying to pull away or be coy, she felt those quiet kisses all the way to her toes and it took away almost all rational thought. She pulled away and cleared her throat. She wasn't a girl who should give up control—and she had kind of already proven that.

Before he backed away, Sam pulled the necklace out from under the high neckline of her sleeveless dress. "Do you want them to think _this_ is who you are?"

She shrugged and flipped it back under. In all reality, it was a gift from her a mother. A 'welcome home' gift. Her parents were always doing things like that with her and her older sister, and seemed to think that Quinn could be bought. She supposed it was only fair to get a thank you gift after her dad had been kicked out. She might stop and wonder what _his_ thank you gift was after _she _moved out back when roles were reversed, but she didn't want to dwell on it. No, her mother was not there, she was never around, and that meant she was rarely on Quinn's mind. She still hadn't talked to her dad. Not even once.

"No. It's just who my mom wants me to be."

He nodded. "Well, I know who you are. It's just a little more private than that. That's why I asked."

She raised her eyebrows, impressed. "What about you? Are you private?"

He sighed. "Not with my parents. While I wouldn't say they know _everything_—they know enough. My mom has these patient, kind eyes that kind of drag the truth out of me."

Quinn nodded once. "And what kind of eyes would you say I have?"

"Are you trying to make me sound gay to get out of this?"

She scoffed and smoothed her hands over the skirt on her dress. "No. I'm just trying to get to know you a little more."

He chuckled. "Trust me, you'll get to know plenty." He finally reached out and twisted the key in the ignition, shutting the entire car down before he turned to look at her expectantly. "Now, are you going to stay there this time so I can open your door?"

Sam had playfully admonished her several times during the wedding because she had gotten out of the car by herself when they arrived. He argued that it was a 'true gentleman's' job to open doors. He quietly stated that he had never seen his mother open a door and she hadn't been able to argue or resist back, because it was one of those little things that sounded nice.

She nodded and sat back up in her seat to wait for him.

True to his word, a few seconds later he appeared to help her out of the car. Dinner with his family was pleasant, not forced, and warm—in short, the complete opposite of what she had to offer him at her own house. The house itself was more farmhouse-style than her childhood home and not quite as large, but was imbued with a comfort that she knew she had always wanted in her own. As they lingered over decaffeinated coffee, his mom finally wrapped up the conversation with Quinn comparing drill team versus cheerleading squad, then Sam stood and turned toward her with a hand extended.

She accepted it, his slightly warm grasp familiar to her always cool fingers by now, but issued a questioning gaze.

"It's still warm enough out for us to get in one last dance."

He led her out onto the wooden back deck. It still smelled like wood stain, which he quickly explained was one of the side-projects his dad had tackled during unemployment. She looked around curiously at the white lights draped and mixed in with multi-colored paper laterns.

"Do you always have your back patio decorated like a church dance?" She asked, her voice thick with wry amusement.

"No, except when two nights ago we actually hosted something like that."

"A dance?" She paced along the wooden slats, her heels echoing with deep, echoing clicks on each step.

"No, it was actually dinner for the drill team's Sadie Hawkins' Dance date. It was warm enough to do it out on the porch and my dad cooks a mean prime rib." He cleared his throat. "I'm still not clear on how they roped my mom into hosting it, but…."

She nodded as he reached for a small stereo that appeared to be balanced precariously on the rail around the patio perimeter.

"I've never heard this song before," she admitted as he moved back toward her and immediately pulled her close.

"No?" He questioned. "Well, it's just the radio. I didn't plan anything special with it."

She smiled, enjoying the proximity. His face was a mere couple of inches from her and the intimate volume was quickly her favorite thing about them. They spoke softly and treaded lightly. It was a perfect beginning.

"I'm sure." She said dryly. She arched an eyebrow as she looked on skeptically. "And what would you have picked for us to dance to?"

He shrugged awkwardly. "I don't know. Maybe that song from Titanic?"

She laughed out loud, actually tossing her head back and feeling the pull on a few ends of her long hair that were tangled in his fingers across her back. "Sam!"

"What?" He asked, his voice defensive even as his face was smirking. "Isn't that cool?"

"No," she said. "Not unless I missed something and we're seven." She sighed when she actually heard the lyrics tentatively declaring a lost cause, and rested her head on the hard curve of his neck meeting his collarbone. He tightened his arms around her.

"Tired?"

"Mmm…." she hummed softly in agreement as they rocked in their warm cocoon together. The fingers that had been caught in her hair as she tossed her head back were now playing with the curled ends.

_Sleep well…. Sleep well…_

She was so content in this moment that she was somewhere between awake and sleep, in that surreal, dreamy state where she swore she could hear Sam talking through his heartbeats and his warm breath on her neck.

He was a good guy. He was anxious about his reputation as any of them were—as all of them were. She could certainly understand that. She wondered what the future held for them. If he was just using her, if she was just using him or if there was something more real between them… did it matter? At sixteen, they weren't going to go any further than high school. She could certainly do a lot _worse._ He was at least considerate enough to tolerate her disinterest in sex. One of the things the Unwed Mothership Connection had taught her was that she already had a negative reputation, just by having sex once and getting pregnant. Quinn had really hesitated to fall into a relationship with someone because she didn't want them to think she was easy. So did that mean she was being too difficult? She didn't know. She didn't know much of anything; she was still trying to regain her footing and her foothold was tenuous at best. Sam, on the other hand, was the new kid. He could be anything he wanted to be. And he wanted to be with her, so what did that say?

She tipped her head up just enough that she could kiss his chin. He murmured appreciatively and lowered his head so their lips met in the middle in a lazy, soft kiss.

_Clear liquor and cloudy eyes…. Too early to say goodnight. _

Her haziness fell away and she pulled her head entirely upright to look at him in confusion.

"What?" He asked, immediately missing the warmth of kissing her.

"I thought you said this was the radio?" She demanded, unable to force her voice into anything harsh.

He chuckled. "It's not?"

She shook her head. "Nope. This is the same song that was playing when we came out. Because I heard it was too early to say goodnight and I wanted to agree with the music out loud."

"Well… it's still worth agreeing to, isn't it?" He asked. He settled in closer to her but picked up the pace of his sway. "And from the ballroom floor, we are in celebration—one good stretch before our hibernation…" he sang along.

She arched an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't know this song either."

"Now, I never said that. I just said I didn't plan anything _special_ with it." He lowered his head. "Although maybe I did pay my brother five dollars to make us a CD we could dance to out here."

Her smile was wide. "Well… if it's all one song I think you deserve your five bucks back."

"Agreed," he said. He leaned forward and gave her a hard kiss before he pulled away, eyes shining and a teasing smile. "Maybe if you flashed him he would be more likely to give it back."

Her jaw dropped in indignation as she swatted at his chest. She was laughing as she issued the shocked "Samson Nathaniel Evans!" that brought the parents out of the house to check on them just in time to see the younger brother falling out of the tree he'd climbed to spy.

Quinn felt like she was in the middle of some idealistic tableau… it was really all she'd hoped for in her whole life, this normal feeling. And even as she laughed with Sam while his parents tried to corral and discipline the spying sibling, she recognized it for what it was and all the potential it held to become the best season of her life so far.


End file.
